Match Girl
by whitecoralbelles
Summary: A modern retelling of "The Little Matchstick Girl." Rated for language and adult situations.


Match Girl

It was freezing—the digital thermometer on the rearview mirror beamed an optimistic two below across the front seats. Katy took her time as she donned her clothes, knowing that as soon as she was dressed it would be back outside, unprotected by the heater of the SUV or anything other than her skimpy outfit and a threadbare blanket.

"Hurry up, would you?" The john glared at her from the driver's seat, and Katy shrugged a shoulder at him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Placing one hand on the door handle, she held the other out to him. "Twenty." Her eyes moved to the frosted window and she grimaced at the thought of standing on the corner again. Maybe she would just go home…the twenty from this quickie wasn't much, but at least it was something…

From the corner of her eye she saw the man shift, and figuring he was going for his wallet, steeled herself as she pulled the handle and cracked the door.

His shoulder rammed into her side like a fucking freight train and she was hurled against the door, which was open enough so that it gave way easily under the impact. As she rolled onto the unyielding pavement she heard the door slam above her and narrowly managed to scramble out of the way as he hit the gas and sped off, tires screaming. One of her strappy stiletto heels wasn't so lucky—it had fallen off her foot directly into the path of the rear tire.

"Hey! You bastard!" Katy threw up her middle finger as she ran a few futile steps after the ever-shrinking taillights. "Son of a bitch." Katy bent down and picked up the tattered army blanket that lay on the pavement where she had discarded it when the SUV had pulled up. Hell of a lot of good that romp had done her, she thought bitterly as she wrapped the itchy fabric around her shoulders. Her eyes found the crushed mess that had been her shoe a moment ago and she swore again, loudly. Not bothering to retrieve the pieces from the street, Katy kicked off its twin and watched ill-humoredly as it skidded across the sidewalk. They hadn't done her any good against the cold anyway she told herself, though the soles of her feet protested as they came into contact with the frigid pavement.

Slumped up against the brick wall at the entrance of an alley where the wind was at least partially blocked but she still had a decent view of the street, Katy grimly contemplated waiting for another john. She couldn't go home now that that asshole had made off with her cash—what waited for her there if she came back empty handed was probably worse than standing out in the cold a while longer.

Her mouth twisted up in a mocking smile. She felt like some green street-virgin, a small town girl come to the big city to be an actress, ended up on the streets but still dreaming big. Only dumbass kids let themselves be fucking humiliated like that, and she had always prided herself on being too streetwise to let somebody pull one over on her. At least she was the only one desperate enough to be working a corner on a night like this, and no one had been around to see it.

She wished that Joe's girl—what was her name? Amber? That sounded right—that her ankle had been broken instead of only sprained. Maybe then she'd still be stuck on her ass somewhere, and Katy'd be raking in the—comparatively—big bucks.

When Amber had fallen off the stage at Peek-A-Boo, Joe's club, due to some drunk who thought she'd be better off giving him some personal attention, Joe had pulled Katy in as a replacement while Amber healed up. For two weeks Katy had been in heaven, pulling in regular pay plus tips, dancing and stripping instead of actually having to bang anyone, and, perhaps most importantly in late December, working inside. But Amber was back now, and Joe couldn't afford another dancer—so here she was, back on the street.

Not like it was doing her a damn bit of good, freezing her ass off on the corner. For the last three days she'd gone home without a single penny, and the one jackass she'd snagged tonight had stiffed her. A harsh laugh burst from her throat at the unintentional pun, and with it came a cloud of steam that reinforced just how fucking _cold _it was.

Again the thought of calling it quits for the night was considered and dismissed. Her father was waiting at home, ready to take anything she'd made and head straight to the liquor store, or maybe, if it was one of those nights, to hang around for a while and see just how many punches it took to knock her out. And the prospects were only that good if she came back with money. Without it…

Katy shook her head, as if that could somehow erase the memory of what he'd done to her. No use thinking about it now, thinking about how he'd tell her that if she couldn't work for money on the streets so he could get his booze that she'd damn well work for it at home so he could get _some_ pleasure—

Disgusted with herself for not being able to dismiss the nauseating feel of his hands blundering drunkenly across her skin, Katy pushed away from the wall and decided she'd try another corner. Usually this was a good spot, but no one had driven past since her rendezvous with Cheap Bastard, and maybe it would warm up her feet—which were beginning to acquire a distinct blue tinge—to walk a block or two.

It was a bitch, Katy thought as she walked, to have to choose between being raped or freezing to death. She snorted; fuck that, there was no choice. There was no way in seven hells that she was going to give up and go home and just let him do whatever he wanted to her. She could handle a little cold.

Somewhere in her head a snide little voice told her not to be an idiot, this wasn't a little cold. Somewhere, she acknowledged that the voice was right. She wasn't naïve enough to think that dozens of people on the streets wouldn't kick off on a night like this—but surely, the larger part of her mind said, not her. She couldn't believe that she was in any real danger of dying.

"Shit!" The expletive tumbled from her lips as Katy tried to regain the balance she had lost when her foot caught on something bulky and considerably warmer than the air. From the weak glow of a streetlight a few yards away, all she could see was what looked like a pile of rags or clothes. Her foot, prodding the bundle, told her the truth—it was a person, a man, she saw as she bent down and pulled the scarf away from his face.

He wasn't dead, although at first she thought he might have been—but no, he was warm and a small cloud of breath was expelled from his mouth every few seconds. He _was_ sleeping, quite soundly, oblivious even to Katy tripping over him, and she glared down at him enviously. It annoyed her that he was able to sleep through this miserable night when she had little to no hope of doing the same. Katy wondered what his secret was.

She gave him another prod with her foot, and then another, harder one. Maybe if she woke him up he'd be good for a go, and could provide her with at least enough cash for her to be able to sleep in her room tonight. She had no luck, not even when the third nudge turned into an outright kick—this guy was completely out of it. Irritated beyond all reason, Katy gave him one more good boot and—_clink._

With a frown Katy bent to retrieve the object that had fallen from the body. Her frozen fingers fumbled a little as she grasped the slick surface. Bringing it closer to her face, Katy saw that it was a small glass vial, about half full, and though it had no label Katy could have guessed what it was within three tries. No wonder Sleeping Beauty was snoozing so soundly—he had knocked himself out with whichever illegal substance he happened to prefer.

For all her pride in her streetsmarts and world weary, hardened attitude, drugs were the one thing that scared the hell out of Katy. The thought of having no self control, her every move determined by a chemical ravaging its way through her body was not something she relished. She'd never so much as even smoked pot.

Now, standing in the cold with a small bottle of God knew what in her hand, Katy's eyes traveled to the man on the pavement. If the drugs had put them that far under…Normally, she would never even have considered it, but it was so damn cold, and he looked so wonderfully oblivious…

Katy squatted down next to the sleeper and, before she could lose her nerve, thrust a hand into his mass of garments. It took her a few moments of rooting around through the various layers before her fingers found the opening of the pocket that contained two syringes. Luckily they were capped, and her fingers sustained no injuries as she grasped the needles. Withdrawing them as swiftly as she had gone after them, she clenched her fist around the pair and pushed herself back into a standing position. She took one long look at the sleeping man before hurrying on towards the next corner.

Underneath the sickly light emanating from the bulb on the corner, Katy warily examined her borrowed paraphernalia. She couldn't believe she had actually stolen that guy's drugs and needles; in the light it was obvious that they had been used over and over again, which really wasn't unexpected. What completely blew her mind was the fact that she was actually considering using not only the drug but needles—needles that could carry any number of diseases! Any number, like AIDS or Hepatitis or…

"Fuck, Katy, calm the hell down." The sound of her own voice grounded her some. She exposed herself to the same diseases every time she fucked some stranger on the street, so really, what did it matter if she used dirty needles? The only question that was really relevant now was whether or not she was desperate enough to overcome her irrational fear of being high.

Not yet, she decided. Not just yet.

Her decision to stick it out in the cold a while longer made, Katy tucked the vial and the syringes into her lacy, more decorative than serviceable, bra, just underneath her left breast.

As she strutted up and down the empty stretch of sidewalk, as much out of a superstitious belief that if she acted like a hooker it would lure someone to her as well as a desire to keep warm, Katy's mind kept straying to the bundle against her chest. Its small but constant pressure was enough to remind her that she didn't have to stand here and freeze or go home to her bastard father. The power to sleep it off, to get at least a small reprieve from the cold and the pressure and even the fear and disgust, it was within her reach, right up under her breast.

It would look better in the morning, wasn't that what they always said? Maybe she just needed to get to the morning.

Katy knew better than that shit, she _knew_ it, but she still found herself stumbling back into an alley, her fingers scrabbling for the bottle tucked in her bra.

Sheltered between two trashcans and a brick wall, Katy huddled beneath her blanket and regarded one of the needles carefully. She had no clue how much of this would be too much, how much it would take to put her under for good. Deciding it was better to start small, Katy drew the liquid into the syringe up to the first bold mark, next to a worn 5. She could always take more if this wasn't enough.

Without much light it was difficult to see the vein in the crook of her elbow, but Katy lined it up as well as she could, clenched her eyes and teeth, and _jabbed._

"FUCK!" Even she could tell she'd missed her mark as she jerked the point from her arm. "God _damn._" Katy scowled, rubbing the spot where she'd stabbed herself to try to ease the sting. When the worst of it had abated, Katy once again lined the needle up with her vein. This time she felt around to be sure that the point was resting directly atop the site she wanted to inject and then, slowly, slowly now, she eased the steel into her arm. It felt more right this time, and so Katy depressed the plunger with one thrust and withdrew the syringe. Holding it loosely against her leg, she waited for the effects to hit her.

As she waited, Katy thought of Amber, dancing onstage, and of Joe, kicked back in the office of the club, watching on a screen mounted on the wall. Wouldn't it be so nice, to be inside, warm and relaxed…

The dark walls of the alley blurred and faded away, to be replaced by the flashing strobe lights and pulsing music of Peek-A-Boo. There was Amber, spinning herself around a silver pole with an ankle as strong as ever, and sure enough, Joe was just stepping out of his office behind the bar, making his way over to have a word with one of the bouncers. Katy wasn't sure how she'd gotten here—she vaguely remembered shooting something into her arm, which was odd, because she wasn't into drugs—maybe that had something to do with her memory loss. It wasn't really a big deal though, because she was _warm_, which was amazing. It must have been really cold outside when she'd arrived for her to feel such a profound relief regarding the temperature.

"I need a drink." Announcing her intentions to no one in particular, Katy took a step towards the bar

and groaned as she saw the alley materialize around her once more. The club, Amber and Joe, the warmth…it had all been a hallucination, a fucking fabulous hallucination—

Without conscious effort her fingers were drawing more liquid bliss into the syringe, this time up to the 10, and sliding it into her arm.

Her fingers loosed their hold on the vessel and it clattered to the floor of her closet of a bedroom in the tiny apartment she shared with her father. The sound of plastic hitting linoleum started her from sleep. She was lying in bed, covered up to her chin with every blanket she owned, and oh, God, her mattress had never been so soft before. Katy shifted onto her side and slid a hand underneath her pillow to cushion her head. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this comfortable. Her eyes fluttered closed once more, perfectly content to drift off to sleep again…

"Katy? Katy, honey, time to get up." A woman's voice, barely recognized, accompanied the gentle knock on the door.

Katy's eyes snapped open again, wide with shock. "Mom?" The word was so weak that Katy herself couldn't even hear it. "Mom?" This time she found her voice, and it echoed throughout the small chamber.

"In here, sweetie."

Jumping up with energy she hadn't had a moment ago, Katy bounded to the doorway and threw it open. What she saw made her stop and gape openly—this was not the living room of her apartment. Where that one was dingy, cramped, and dirty, this was shining, spacious and lovely. Hardwood floors glowed in the light of a welcoming blaze on the hearth, and the tasteful, expensive looking furniture practically screamed comfort. Through a doorway directly across from the one that led to Katy's room, Katy caught a glimpse of a bright kitchen. Afraid to move, in case this was another soap bubble illusion that would pop at the slightest provocation, Katy curled her toes into the soft carpet to keep herself from moving.

Wait. That wasn't right. Her room had never had carpet… Whirling, Katy saw that her bedroom was now no more familiar that the wonderful new living room, and no less wonderful either.

"Katy, come on. Your breakfast is getting cold."

"Mom," Katy breathed once more, and with a wider smile that she'd worn in years, Katy ran towards the kitchen and her mother's voice.

She was halfway through the room when the walls began to melt. "No!' Desperate not lose the vision of her beloved mother, whom she had missed so horribly for so many years, Katy turned and sprinted back to her room, diving through the door just before it faded into a brick wall. The new luxurious furnishings and the carpet were gone, along with the door to the rest of the house, but her old bed and nightstand remained.

Dropping to her knees beside the bed, Katy seized the syringe from where it had tumbled to the floor and frantically looked about for the bottle containing the drugs. "Damn it! Where is it?" Her hands, shaking with panic, jerked the drawer from the nightstand and upended it onto the bed, sorting through the jumbled mess frenetically. Seeing that it was not among the items, Katy swept them into the floor in a single motion and proceeded to rip apart her bed linens, throwing blankets, pillows, and sheets haphazardly about the room as she searched. "Come _on_, it has to be here _somewhere_!" Once more she hit the floor, sliding under the bed on her stomach and groping about in the darkness. Finally, in the farthest corner her fingers alighted upon something small and smooth, and Katy called out in triumph as she gripped the bottle and squirmed out from under the bed.

For the third time Katy filled the syringe, drawing the plunger back as far as it would go before jamming the entire tube of liquid into her vein, muttering fervently and incoherently all the while.

"Mom…no can't go…hurry up don't let it get away…thank God…hurry hurry fuck! hurry…" She sighed with relief as she felt the floor soften underneath her knees, though she didn't waste a moment before getting to her feet and rushing out through the reformed doorway, into the living room and finally—finally!—the kitchen.

As she crossed the threshold, the room disappeared, but was not replaced by the alley this time. Instead, she stood in the middle of a sea of velvet blue with shining dots of brilliant white light scattered around her.

"Mom?" Katy thought she could see the form of a woman a little way ahead of her, but when she tried to move to her, one of the bright lights streaked toward Katy and hit her square in the chest, knocking her back to where she had started. It didn't hurt as it collided with her; it was actually pleasant, like a warm sort of tickle.

"A shooting star. Someone is dying." Katy's mother's voice floated out of the blue.

"What?" The light apparently hadn't impaired Katy's speech, only her movement. "Who's dying?"

"Dying…a shooting star…someone…" The words seemed to echo around Katy, overlapping and blending with one another over and over again.

Suddenly the lights—stars, Katy realized—began hurtling toward her, striking her just as the first one had. Where each star hit her it seemed to stick, until it appeared that Katy was only a mass of white light.

"A shooting star…someone is dying." The words died off, until finally only the one phrase was still resounding. Then it too tapered off, and with a blinding flash, Katy found herself able to move once more. Up ahead she could see the figure of her mother, facing away from her. She took a tentative step forward, somewhat afraid to move in the odd landscape of dusky light, but although she could not see any ground beneath her it was just the same as the solid street she had strutted down not so long ago.

Emboldened by the uneventful step forward, Katy moved again, in the direction she thought she had last seen her mother. The distance moved around in her in odd waves; it seemed like one step would take her miles while the next might carry her only an inch.

"Mom!" she called. Her mother didn't turn, but took a step forward. Katy began to run. "Mom! Take me with you! Don't go!"

This time she did turn around, and extended her hand to Katy. Laughing, not harshly or bitterly as her laughter had been for so long, but with actual happiness, Katy grasped on.

"Cooper! Hey, Cooper! We got another over here." At the sound of his partner's voice, Cooper entered the alleyway. This was a part of the job he really hated, going around after nights like the last and patrolling the streets for all those who hadn't made it through.

"Ah, Jesus, Dawes, she's just a kid. Look at her." The girl was huddled into the back corner of the alley, her limbs barely covered by a ragged blanket. Her pretty face was turned up towards the sky, blonde curls framing features made no less lovely by the blue tint of cold and death.

Dawes glanced up at Cooper from where he crouched by the body, and in his gloved hand he held up a syringe. "A hooker and a druggie, Coop. This was no child." He frowned. "Damn strange, too. Check out the smile."

Cooper looked again, more closely. Sure enough, the girl looked…happy.

"Can't imagine she had much to grin about," Dawes continued.

Cooper shrugged. "Maybe she's finally warm."

And she was.


End file.
